


The Coffee Haus

by questionableatbest



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, idk why the summary is sort of jack's pov because this fic is bitty's, or at least the first chapter is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/questionableatbest/pseuds/questionableatbest
Summary: Bitty and Lardo own a coffee shop, Shitty is a perpetual student who hangs around, and Jack plays for the NHL. When Jack realizes that their coffee shop is just about the only place in the world where he'll be treated normally, he becomes a regular.That definitely has absolutely nothing to do with the cute barista/owner/baker who always offers him pie. Nothing at all.





	1. jack zimmerman

**Author's Note:**

> the title is a work in progress and is going to be changed as soon as i think of something better
> 
> *** used to be 'coffee and pie' but i've decided that bitty and lardo's coffee shop is called The Coffee Haus and i've changed the title accordingly!

Normally, Bitty and Lardo’s customers were great.

They stopped by on the way to work, and there was always a steady crowd around lunch, and students had a tendency to pile up in the evenings, and the fact that their business was a small, privately owned coffee shop, meant that most of their regulars were quiet and respectful.

Every once in a while, people showed up who were the opposite.

Of course, when Jack Zimmerman and Kent Parson walked in one day, nobody really knew what to expect.

It was mid-morning, so Lardo was working the register and making drinks while Shitty tried to distract her, and Bitty was in the back, focused on making sure they had enough baked goods to make it through the day. They’d never actually ran out, but they did always drop off the leftovers at the local shelter, so he really didn’t mind making a few too many.

He enjoyed baking enough that he also didn’t mind making a few too many  _ batches _ , but that was beside the point.

Lardo had caught onto what he was doing ages ago, and she’d just rolled her eyes, gotten Holster to double check that they could actually afford Bitty’s charitable efforts, and then she’d let it be.

He was still always done baking by the time the lunch rush rolled around and, as long as he was there to help Lardo with that, everything ran smoothly.

Of course, he rarely spent the entire morning in the back and, more often than not, it was Shitty and Lardo’s conversations that drew him out of the kitchen. Today, it was their hushed voices, and the strange but noticably tense voices of customers that brought him out.

And then he was in out of the kitchen and in the shop, and he was about to ask what was going on, when Lardo and Shitty both shushed him at once.

Shitty was sitting at the bar with a million textbooks spread out, notably not doing any work, while Lardo was on the other side of the counter, with a cloth in hand and a cup in the other, though she wasn’t actually moving. She was leaning closer to Shitty than usual, and she nodded her head for Bitty to join them.

He raised an eyebrow, but he also took his spot, leaning on the counter beside her, and then he followed her gaze to a table behind Shitty, that was currently occupied by two ridiculously large men.

It took half a second for Bitty to recognize them, and then he understood the whispers and the curiosity.

Shitty was facing the counter and couldn’t turn around without being completely obvious, so Lardo was providing a play by play.

Bitty was appalled.

“Do you two not have any  _ shame _ ?” he hissed, and then, “Eavesdropping? Really?”

Shitty almost looked guilty, but Lardo just kept staring past him.

“All I’m saying, is that they’re sitting  _ very  _ close together, and that my money's on Zimmerman throwing the first punch,” she whispered, at which point Shitty’s eyebrows shot up, and Bitty’s curiosity also got the better of him and he also snuck a look past his friends and,  _ well _ .

He definitely saw what Lardo meant.

There was no good reason for two grown men to be sitting at a table as tiny as the one they’d chosen, and yet there they were. There was also no good reason for Kent Parson to be taking up so much space, and yet he was. His legs were sprawled out underneath the table, and he was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, and Jack Zimmerman seemed to be making a point of leaning back in his chair, which was pushed as far away as possible. It would be comical, if Jack Zimmerman didn’t look as uncomfortable as he did.

As it was, he was frowning deeply, and he seemed to be making a point of not looking at Parson, and his arms were crossed over his chest and Bitty was almost positive that his hands were in fists.

Bitty felt bad for the man, and he felt even worse when he realized that he was eavesdropping as well.

“And all I’m saying, is that they clearly want some  _ privacy _ ,” he said, making a point of looking away, even as Zimmerman leaned a bit closer and looked like he was about to speak for the first time, and-

And that was none of his business, Bitty reminded himself.

Of course, his friends didn’t listen to a word he said, and Shitty couldn’t actually see what was going on, but apparently Lardo’s play by play had told him enough that he felt comfortable making observations such as, “And all  _ I’m  _ saying, is that maybe the rumors about them aren’t completely wrong,” and Lardo snorted, while Bitty froze.

Much like everybody else in the world who followed hockey, Bitty had his own opinions on the nature of the relationship between Kent Parson and Jack Zimmerman.

Also like everybody else in the world who followed hockey, he’d seen one particularly unfortunate interview, where Jack had been asked about those rumours, frozen up completely, and had then been ushered away by his publicist.

Because of that, Bitty’s main opinion on the relationship between Parson and Zimmerman was that it was nobody’s business but their own, and he knew that his friends knew that, so he wasn’t particularly surprised when, moments later, Shitty said, “Sorry, Bits, I’ll leave it,” though he couldn’t help but snort when Shitty added, “And I’ll check my privilege, and all.”

“You do that,” he said and, while the tension between the three friends seemed to diffuse, it was also that moment that Kent Parson stood up, knocked his chair over, and ignored everybody else in the room, as-

“I’m trying to help you, Zims,” he said, not bothering to keep his voice down and not bothering to hide his anger, as he went on with, “But I’m not going to keep trying forever and neither is everybody else, so just- Just get it together, man.”

He left after that, leaving his chair on the floor and his friend looking more tired than anything else, and Shitty turned around to watch him go. When he turned back to face Bitty and Lardo, his eyes were wide and he was frowning, and he looked genuinely concerned. The look was mirrored on Lardo’s face and Bitty felt the same way so, after Jack Zimmerman didn’t move for several seconds, Bitty let out a sigh, pushed himself off the counter, and grabbed a plate.

A few seconds later, he had a piece of apple pie in one hand, a fresh cup of coffee in the other, and he was ignoring his friends and heading around the counter, straight for Jack Zimmerman.

He didn’t really know what he was doing or why he was doing it, but he knew that Jack Zimmerman looked absolutely shattered, and he knew that he hated seeing people upset, and he knew that pie almost always helped.

When he stopped beside Jack Zimmerman’s table, he put the pie down in front of him and set the coffee off to the side and Jack looked up in surprise, but Bitty didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he bent over and picked up the chair, and at that point-

“Fu- Sh-  _ Jesus _ , I’m sorry about-”

Jack Zimmerman cut himself off with a sigh, and Jack Zimmerman was stuttering over his words, and Jack Zimmerman was clearly trying not to swear, and if Jack Zimmerman hadn’t looked so upset, Bitty would have found it all adorable.

As it was, he had damage control to do, so all he said was, “It’s not a problem, hon,” and then, “And whatever the problem is, I’m sure it’s nothing that a bit of time can’t fix but, for now, pie can’t hurt either.”

At that, Jack Zimmerman seemed to break out of whatever trance he was in. He blinked, and then his eyes actually landed on Bitty and, well, that was a tiny bit disconcerting in and of itself, and then he was moving to pull out his wallet, and-

“Oh no,” Bitty said, taking a small step back and crossing his arms in protest, “This is a gift, and- Lord, did you think I’d make you pay for something you didn’t even order?”

Jack Zimmerman looked from Bitty, to the pie, and then back again for several seconds, before he sighed. “It’s more than I can eat,” he said, and then, “It’s not on my meal plan.”

Bitty couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, as he put his hands on his hips and said, “That is by far the worst thank you I’ve ever received,” and, for a second, Jack Zimmerman looked like he was almost going to smile.

“Sorry,” he said again, and then, “Thank you for the pie,” and then he picked up his fork and took a small, tentative bite, and then his eyes widened and he really did smile, and Bitty wasn’t surprised at all.

His pie was good, and he knew that, and Jack Zimmerman’s reaction was the same one that he always got.

The fact that it was Jack Zimmerman reacting to it didn’t mean anything at all, and it definitely didn’t make his heart flutter or his stomach flip, because that would be ridiculous.

Because of that, Bitty reigned in his excitement and kept smiling gently, and said, “It’s not a problem,” and then, “You looked like you could use it, anyways,” but he regretted it a moment later, because Jack’s face fell.

“Yeah,” he said, and then, “Look- I really am sorry for all of that,” and the fact that Jack Zimmerman was apologizing on behalf of his friend was absolutely ridiculous, so-

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Bitty said, and then, “Goodness, if I didn’t know you were Canadian I’d be worried about the amount of times those words left your mouth,” but he recognized that as another mistake a moment later, when Jack’s eyes widened, and-

“You know who I am?” he asked, and the fact that he sounded surprised was even more absurd than the amount of times he’d apologized and, when Bitty said that out loud, he actually looked sheepish. “I- it’s just…” he trailed off, and Bitty’s heart practically melted on the spot.

“It must be weird,” he offered, and Jack nodded, but it was almost absent mindedly so, and Bitty wanted to say something else, but before he could think of something that would get them away from creepy-fan zone and into complementary and comforting, Lardo interrupted them both with-

“Bits, the timer’s going off,” and that meant that his scones were ready, and even an extra minute in the oven would burn them, and the fact that they were likely going to homeless people didn’t mean that they were any less important, so-

“That’s me,” he said, already taking a step back, and then, “I’ve got to get back to work, but you enjoy your pie, Mr. Zimmerman.”

Bitty had taken a few more backwards steps and was about to turn around, when Jack Zimmerman jumped in with, “You can call me Jack,” at which point Bitty paused for half a second- just long enough to smile and nod- and then he turned on his heel and headed for his scones.

He was more than a little bit relieved to find that they hadn’t burnt, and then he had to get another batch in, and there was a rhubarb pie that was dangerously close to being soggy, and there were cookies and loaves and a million other things that demanded Bitty’s attention and, by the time he made it out front for the lunch rush, Jack Zimmerman was gone.

It was only after the rush ended, and Bitty was wiping down a counter while Lardo ate her lunch, that she said, “By the way, you know Zimmerman bought the rest of the apple pie?” that Bitty actually let himself think about their conversation because, well.

He’d met Jack Zimmerman.

He’d talked to Jack Zimmerman.

He’d given Jack Zimmerman pie and coffee in an attempt to comfort him, and then he’d made him smile, and then he’d been told to call Jack Zimmerman, ‘ _ just Jack _ ,’ and that’s where Bitty stopped his thinking, because he realized all at once that he was being ridiculous.

He was never going to see Jack Zimmerman again and, even if he did, there was no way that Jack would recognize him. He was never going to have a chance to call Jack Zimmerman,  _ ‘just Jack, _ ’ and it was ridiculous to think otherwise because, really.

Bitty owned a coffee shop with his best friend, and Jack Zimmerman played for the NHL, and, in more than a few ways, that put them in completely different leagues.

Because of that, he didn’t resent Shitty for throwing a pencil at him and pulling him out of his thoughts with a question about something that Bitty was sure he wouldn’t understand because, really, there was no point in daydreaming about things that would never happen.

Bitty was happy and he hoped that Jack Zimmerman was too, and their conversation had been nice, and that was that.


	2. coffee and apple pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of your comments are super sweet, so thank you for those, and i hope you enjoy this as well!

The Falconers lost to the Aces that night, which at least explained why Kent Parson was in town.

It didn’t really explain why him and Jack Zimmerman had been in Bitty and Lardo’s coffee shop, and it didn’t really explain their argument, and it definitely didn’t explain why, after Parson had left, Jack Zimmerman had stuck around, talked to Bitty, and then bought an entire pie, but that was beside the point.

The fact that, while watching the game, Bitty felt personally attacked every time somebody checked Jack was also beside the point and, if Bitty spent the next few days perking up every time the door of his coffee shop opened, only to realize that it wasn’t Jack Zimmerman walking back inside, then that was definitely completely and entirely beside the point as well.

He knew he was being ridiculous, and he scolded himself every time and, soon enough, things went back to normal.

His usual customers came and went, and he made pastries and pies and drinks, and Shitty and Lardo pretended that they weren’t flirting, and Bitty started to forget about Jack Zimmerman entirely.

Of course, because of that, the next time Jack Zimmerman walked into the shop, Bitty was completely caught off guard.

They were in the middle of their lunch rush, which meant that Lardo was making drinks as quickly as she could manage, while Bitty took orders, ran the cash register, and handed over pastries from the display case. Their shop had only been open for a few years but, during that time, the two of them had mastered the art of working together to get through rushes and, as long as Shitty kept quiet so that they could focus, they almost never ran into any problems.

Still, when Bitty handed a woman her muffin, dropped her cash into the register, told her to, “Have a good day,” and then looked up to see that Jack Zimmerman had taken her spot, he faltered.

Jack, on the other hand, looked prepared. “Could I get a coffee?” he asked, quickly, and then, “And a piece of apple pie?”

Bitty blinked, before a smile started to spread across his face. “You’re not going to buy the whole thing this time?” he asked, teasing, and he smiled even wider when Jack Zimmerman actually blushed.

Jack muttered something that sounded like, “My nutritionist would probably kill me,” but he also added, “Though she also said that I can afford a treat every once in a while, so.”

“Well then, you’ve come to the right place,” Bitty replied without skipping a beat, though when he backtracked a second later he realized that it sounded like he was flirting, and he mentally kicked himself for it. Luckily, if Jack noticed, he didn’t say anything, so Bitty just asked, “Will that be for here or to go?” and left it at that.

His heart definitely didn’t flutter when Jack said, “For here,” because that would be ridiculous.

He put all of his energy into not thinking about the fact that Jack Zimmerman had come back to his coffee shop, and he did everything he could to stop himself from examining what, exactly, that meant. Instead, he focused on sliding the pie onto a plate, and then sliding the plate into their mini oven to warm it up, and then sliding a mug over to Lardo, and then turning back to Jack, only to find him deep in conversation with Shitty.

Of course, ‘conversation’ was a relative term and, when Shitty was involved, it usually meant that Shitty ranted and rambled and tried to sort out his own thoughts, while whoever else was involved nodded along and listened halfheartedly. Lardo and Bitty had mastered the art of talking to Shitty ages ago, but for everybody else, Bitty imagined that it could be a tiny bit disconcerting.

Because of that, he was surprised to find that Jack didn’t look particularly confused or uncomfortable and, when Bitty tuned into the conversation, he realized it was because all Shitty was actually saying, was, “Good choice on the apple pie, man, it’s a good one. Like, I’m not saying that I would kill my entire family just for a piece of it, but,” and even Bitty had to shake his head and hide a smile at that.

“It’s really not that much of a compliment,” he cut in, returning to the cash register and interrupting the two of them with a sly smile at Shitty, because, “If you killed your entire family, you’d inherit their fortunes,” and then back to Jack, “I’m pretty sure he’d kill his whole family for far less than a piece of pie.”

“That-”

“Is a fair assessment,” Lardo interrupted Shitty’s protests, and then added, “And quit talking- you’re breaking the lunch rule, Shits,” and then, “And I hate to be the one to tear the rest of this get together apart, but,” she trailed off, with a look to the line behind Jack that was only getting longer.

When Jack turned to see what Lardo was glancing at, he turned back around and quickly said, “Sh- Sorry,” and then was reaching for his wallet, at which point Bitty rolled his eyes.

“Jack, hon,” he started, but-

“I’m paying this time,” Jack insisted, and added, “It’s fine, really,” and then he pulled out a twenty dollar bill which was really way too much, and dropped it on the counter before Bitty could protest. He then moved to the end of the counter, where Lardo had his coffee ready, and Bitty wanted to do something about it, but-

“I’ll get a large soy vanilla latte, and a blueberry scone,” the next person in line said, sounding a bit testy, so Bitty tucked the twenty away, off to the side but not in the register, and grabbed her scone, and then the orders kept coming and the line kept moving, and Bitty just had to go with it.

Eventually, Lardo took Jack’s pie out of the oven and handed it over to him, and which point he grabbed his drink and headed for a table in the back, and Bitty tried to forget about him. He had drinks to serve and money to count and, after a few orders, he did end up falling into the work because, really, he loved it.

He loved serving people with a smile and knowing that it made their day a little bit better, and he loved knowing that people enjoyed his baked goods, and he loved getting to work alongside Lardo, and he even loved Shitty, always sitting at the bar, always sort of studying for a million different things.

It was nice, and it was good, and he was ridiculously proud of the life he’d built for himself because, really, it was a life he could see himself enjoying.

Still, by the time the lunch rush was over and the crowd had thinned out, Bitty and Lardo were exhausted. It was a side effect of waking up at four in the morning, and they were used to it by now, but it didn’t change the fact that they were both almost entirely reliant on coffee to keep themselves awake.

Of course, when the tables around the shop started to clear and Bitty realized that Jack Zimmerman was still sitting in a corner, reading a book and drinking his coffee, Bitty’s exhaustion disappeared, and an excited sort of determination took its place, so he grabbed the twenty Jack had left him, and headed straight for Jack’s table.

Lardo raised an eyebrow and Shitty blatantly stared, but Bitty really couldn’t bring himself to care and, when he got to the table, he held out the bill without hesitation.

“I think you forgot this, Mr. Zimmerman,” he said, aiming for sweet and concerned and knowing that he definitely missed sincere by a mile, but not really caring.

Jack looked up from his book, surprise written over his face, that turned into a blank, unreadable expression a moment later. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, and Bitty bit his lip to keep from laughing.

“Well then, you’ll just have to take my word for it,” he said, and then he took a step closer to the table, lifted up Jack’s coffee cup, slid the twenty underneath it, and then placed the cup back down.

Jack looked from Bitty to the money and back again, while Bitty just nodded and, satisfied with his work, he spun on his heel and was in the process of walking away, when Jack said, “Wait,” at which point Bitty turned back around, only to see Jack Zimmerman half out of his chair, moving towards Bitty.

He sat back down the second Bitty turned around, but Bitty had still seen him standing and, ignoring the fact that Jack was at least a foot taller than him, Bitty found himself thinking that the whole thing was adorable. Because of that, he raised an eyebrow and did exactly what Jack had asked him to; he waited.

Jack’s eyes were still wide and he looked a bit panicked, but eventually he got out the words, “I just- I can’t- you can’t- I should pay for this,” and he looked nervous and flustered, and so sincere that Bitty had to take pity on him.

“Fine,” Bitty said, aiming for stern and holding out a hand, “Give me that and I’ll grab your change,” and when Jack passed the bill over and their fingers brushed slightly, he smiled slightly and ignored how warm Jack’s hands were, before he turned and actually headed for the register this time.

He wasn’t expecting Jack to follow him and he didn’t actually hear anything behind him, but when he got to the register and turned to see Jack standing on the other side of the counter, he found that he wasn’t actually surprised. The fact that somebody as large as Jack was could move as quietly as he did was a bit impressive, but he pushed that though to the side and smiled.

“You know, I didn’t mean you have to leave already,” Bitty said, as glanced at the book Jack had brought with him to the counter, and the dirty dishes that he’d  placed in the bin by the door.

Jack just shrugged. “I’ve got to get to practice,” he explained, and Bitty nodded, while he opened the register and began sorting through the cash. When he looked back up and caught Jack’s eye, Jack looked down right away, but he also held out a hand and accepted the change with a quick, “Thank you,” right before he dropped at least half of it into the tip jar and took a step back, probably hoping to avoid Bitty’s protests, which didn’t work out at all, because-

“Jack Zimmerman,” Bitty started, crossing his arms and doing his best to sound scandalized, “That was not our deal.”

Jack took a step back and, while a sheepish grin appeared on his face, there was also a spark in his eyes that told Bitty he wasn’t sorry at all. “If there’s a tip jar, it’s only polite to tip,” he said, and Bitty rolled his eyes, which only seemed to make Jack’s smile grow, even as he took another step back and said, “I’ll- uh- I’ll see you later,” and then turned and walked out the door, leaving Bitty to stare after him and blink, because-

“Was he flirting with you?”

“He- was doing nothing of the sort,” Bitty said, this time actually sounding scandalized, as he turned to see Shitty and Lardo, both with shit-eating grins on their faces that Bitty was sure weren’t going to go away, but he could still try, so- “He was being polite, like he said. I’m sure it’s a foreign concept to the two of you, but it is still practiced in some circles, and the NHL is one of them.”

At that, Shitty snorted, but he also choose to ignore that comment and instead said, “He was smiling,” and then, “I swear to god, I’ve never seen Jack Zimmerman smile before. I didn’t even think it was possible.”

“Dude’s a blank slate,” Lardo agreed.

“Dull as a doorknob,” Shitty added, which set Lardo off with-

“A doorknob without a personality,” and of course Shitty couldn’t let her win, so-

“A doorknob without a personality that’s lived under a rock it’s whole life,” and Lardo looked like she was ready to add something on, at which point Bitty cleared his throat, because-

“Like I said, you two just don’t have any manners,” and, at that, Shitty and Lardo looked at each other, and then they both shrugged.

“You might be onto something,” Shitty admitted, but added, “But I know flirting when I see it,” and Bitty had to channel all of the patience in the world not to point out the irony of Shitty saying that while Lardo was right beside him.

“He was being nice,” Bitty insisted, and then he added, “Y’all should try it sometime,” and maybe that was a bit too harsh, because Shitty and Lardo’s eyebrows shot up, but they also stayed quiet, so Bitty quickly added, “That wasn’t fair- I’m sorry,” at which point Lardo smiled, but it looked softer than usual.

“You’re right, Bits,” she said, “We were being dicks,” and Shitty nodded vehemently, at which point Bitty smiled back, but it was half hearted and he knew that his friends could tell, so he wasn’t surprised when Shitty jumped in, with-

“He seems like a cool guy, though,” and went on with, “For a superstar hockey player, and all- and he said he’d see you around, so.”

“So?” Bitty prompted, unimpressed, and Shitty’s only response was a shrug, which is when Lardo seemed to take pity on Bitty.

“So we’ve got a new regular, which is great for business,” she said, firm enough to end Shitty’s speculation, and Bitty nodded, grateful.

He could handle Jack Zimmerman being a regular customer, and he could handle talking to Jack Zimmerman.

There were a lot of things that Bitty could handle.

The possibility that he was flirting with Jack Zimmerman was not one of those things because, really, that was something that would never actually go anywhere and, while that was fine, it really was, getting his hopes up would also be painful.

It was something that he knew from experience- never fall in love with a straight boy and, while he also knew better than to assume anything about anybody, he figured that the same principle applied- never fall in love with a straight boy could also very easily mean, ‘ _never fall in love with a gorgeous NHL superstar who was ridiculously out of your league even if he was charming, and kind, and completely and entirely adorable_ ,’ so Bitty wasn’t going to.


	3. fans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is 99% misunderstandings, so i hope you enjoy!

The third time Jack Zimmerman visited their coffee shop, Bitty and Lardo were surprised. The fourth and fifth times caught them off guard as well but, after that, they started to grow used to it.

Jack didn’t talk much, except to place his order and reply to whatever conversation Bitty initiated. He always ordered a large coffee and a piece of apple pie, and he always put a ridiculous amount of change in the tip jar, and then he always retreated to a table in the back, where he sat and read. He didn’t smile often, but he was always polite and sometimes he was downright hilarious, though Bitty was pretty sure that he didn’t actually mean to be.

Jack Zimmerman was one of their regular customers, so that’s what they treated him like.

Shitty and Lardo stopped whispering behind his back, and Bitty tried his best to stop blushing every time their eyes met, and every once in a while a kid would come in and ask for Jack’s autograph, and Jack actually didn’t seem to mind that, but Bitty felt guilty anyways.

He couldn’t imagine the kind of pressure that went along with being recognized everywhere you went, and he couldn’t imagine having to be a role model constantly, and he couldn’t imagine that any of it was easy or that Jack particularly enjoyed that aspect of his job so, one day, when a man who was probably in his late 40s walked up to Jack’s table and started talking to him, Bitty didn’t bother trying to hide the fact that he was staring.

When the man started the conversation with, “Holy fuck, you’re Jack Zimmerman,” Bitty shook his head, while Jack smiled and nodded, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

“Yeah, hey man,” he ended up saying, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world, as the other man took that as an invitation to pull out a chair and actually sit down at Jack’s table.

Bitty snorted at that, and Shitty followed his gaze, before he said, “What the actual fuck,” under his breath and joined Bitty in staring.

The man who’d sat down didn’t seem to see anything wrong with it at all, as he launched into a speech about the Falconers’ strategy, and about what they’d have to do if they wanted to win the cup again, and about a million other things that were absolutely none of his business, all while Jack looked on, like a deer caught in headlights.

“The  _ nerve  _ of some people,” Bitty said, after a particularly unnecessary comment about a shot Jack had missed in his last game, and Jack’s eyes were even wider than they were at the start and he was more pale than Bitty had ever seen him, and that-

That wasn’t fair, and he deserved his privacy and his space, and he did not deserve to be accosted every time he went outside, so Bitty dropped the rag that he’d been holding and he pushed himself off the counter, and then he was walking around it and heading straight for Jack’s table, and then he was there and he forced the biggest smile onto his face that he could, and-

“Were you planning on ordering something, sir?” he asked the man, interrupting him mid-sentence and clearly surprising him, because all he did was blink, so Bitty just smiled even wider and went on with, “Unfortunately, we only really have enough seats for paying customers, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

The fact that the majority of the tables were empty was beside the point.

If the man noticed that, then he didn’t say anything. He did, however, stand up and Lord was he tall, but all he said was, “I- I was going to order,” and Bitty tisked and shook his head.

“Well then, I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” he said, not bothering to try for sincere, as he went on with, “But there’s a Starbucks a few blocks down, and their food is… well, it’s definitely edible. I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

And so maybe Bitty was laying it on a bit thick, and maybe he was enjoying it a bit too much, but the man didn’t seem like he actually wanted a fight, and all he ended up doing was blinking and saying, “Fine,” and then, “For fucks sake,” under his breath, and then, turning to Jack and pointing at him, “And you, remember what I said, alright?” and Jack nodded weakly, and then the man was gone.

There was half a second where Bitty looked at Jack and Jack looked at Bitty and it seemed like neither of them had any idea what to say, but then the door swung shut with a loud bang that Bitty had been meaning to get fixed, and then Shitty’s voice filled the shop with, “ _ Yes _ Bitty, you  _ glorious  _ motherfucker, Jesus  _ fucking  _ Christ, that was the most beautiful showdown I’ve seen in  _ years _ ,” and Lardo was slow clapping it out, so all Bitty could really do was turn around, prop a hand on his hip, and shake his head slowly.

“Are y’all done?” he asked, amusement in his voice despite himself, and of course Shitty caught onto that.

“You love us, you brilliant bastard,” he said, and Bitty just kept shaking his head, before he turned it slightly and caught Jack’s eye.

Jack expression was somewhere between confused and entertained, so Bitty took pity on him and said, “Shitty gets particularly vulgar when he gives compliments,” and then he added, “That’s how you know they’re sincere,” and Jack nodded, like that actually made any sense in the world, and then-

“I- he’s right, you know,” Jack said, and he sounded hesitant and unsure but Bitty was used to that, because Jack was type to think out every word before he said it, and Bitty was willing to wait. “That was- brilliant,” he finally decided on, and Bitty’s face was burning hot and definitely bright red, so he did what he could to wave Jack off.

“That there was  _ nothing _ ,” he said, and then, “If anything, I should be apologizing to you- that man was completely out of line, and it was unacceptable.”

Jack didn’t say anything for a moment after that, but he kept looking at Bitty in a way that was almost unnerving. His eyes were narrow but still as piercing as ever, and his brow was a tiny bit furrowed and, other than that, his expression was blank entirely.

Bitty stared back because he didn’t know what else to do, and he knew that getting lost in somebody’s eyes was the most cliché thing in the world but, well, really, who could blame him? Jack Zimmerman’s eyes were nothing short of mesmerizing and that was definitely not something that Bitty should be thinking, so he was more than grateful when Jack shook his head and interrupted that train of thought.

“It wasn’t nothing,” Jack said, and Bitty didn’t think he was imagining the amount of weight the words seemed to hold, so he just shook his head but Jack kept going with, “It-was really cool,” and then Bitty pursed his lips and rolled his eyes, because there wasn’t anything else he could do.

“Jack Zimmerman, you are  _ too  _ sweet,” he ended up saying, and then, before he could think better of it, “And besides, you scored twice in your last name and your team won by a landslide so, really, that man clearly didn’t know what he was talking about.”

Jack blinked again at that and, for half a second, Bitty was worried that he’d overstepped as well because, really, what did he know? But then Shitty jumped in with, “He’s right, bro, and like, the second goal? When the other team had the power play? Fucking beaut, man,” and Jack’s eyes turned to him, and he honestly looked more surprised than anything, and-

“You guys follow hockey?” he asked, and the fact that he still sounded surprised was completely ridiculous and possibly a bit insulting, and Bitty was about to open his mouth and say as much, when Lardo jumped in.

“They play too,” she said, appearing from the back and shrugging when Bitty send a glare her way. “What?” she asked, and then to Jack, “That’s where I met Bitty- he was on his college team, I was the manager, and this asshole was there too,” she finished pointing a thumb at Shitty, who actually looked proud of being called an asshole.

Jack didn’t look surprised by the insult either. He barely looked at Shitty at all, really. Instead, his gaze flickered from Bitty to Lardo and back again, until he finally said, “That’s cool,” and then, “Is that.. Um, how you two got together, then?” and, well.

It wasn’t the first time that somebody had mistook Bitty and Lardo for a couple, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Sometimes they went along with it and came up with a ridiculous get together story, and sometimes they laughed hysterically at the question, and sometimes it launched one of Shitty’s speeches about the dangers of heteronormativity, but none of those seemed quite right, because Jack looked curious and sincere and he’d asked the question nervously, and Lardo had already snorted the second he’d asked, so-

“Hon,” Bitty started, bracing himself for whatever the response might be and telling himself that it didn’t matter at all, “Trust me when I say that, no matter how much I adore Lardo, I am nowhere near straight enough for that.”

He knew Shitty was crossing his arms and trying to look intimidating, and he knew Lardo was glaring at Jack and definitely looking intimidating, because that’s what they did when people were assholes to him, but Bitty just focused on Jack and told himself to keep smiling no matter what.

For his part, Jack didn’t actually give Bitty a reason to stop smiling and, for that, Bitty was more grateful than he would ever admit.

Jack blinked, and Bitty could see the second realization hit him, and then-

“Oh shit- I shouldn’t have- I didn’t- I’m-” he cut himself off, and he looked disappointed but Bitty was pretty sure that it was directed towards himself, which was something that Bitty really didn’t know what to do with, so he was grateful when Shitty jumped in after a moment, with-

“Dude, heteronormativity fucks us all up,” and he said it as sagely as he said everything else, with just enough emphasis on ‘dude’ to make it more comical than anything, but Jack nodded anyways.

“Yeah,” he said, and then, with a glance to Lardo but mostly to Bitty, “I- shouldn’t have assumed, though. I’m- sorry,” and then, glancing back to Shitty and looking more hesitant than Bitty had possibly ever seen another human being ever, “Are you two…?”

At that, Bitty couldn’t help but laugh, and Lardo was practically in hysterics, while Shitty just shook his head and looked almost disappointed.

“Nah man,” he said, and then, “But trust me when I say that if I were even the slightest bit into dudes, I would be on Bittle in half a second- I mean, like, have you  _ seen  _ his a-”

“No, no,” Bitty cut in, his face bright red, while he turned to Shitty and said, “Finish that sentence and you’ll never be allowed here again,” and then, turning back to Jack who was, well, he was definitely blushing as well, and he had a tiny smile on his face, and he couldn’t quite look at Bitty but he did after a moment and, when he did, his smile seemed to grow a tiny bit and, well.

Bitty really, really didn’t know what to do with that, because he was not flirting with Jack Zimmerman.

He just wasn’t.

It wasn’t happening, and he was imagining the whole thing, and Jack was being nothing but a decent human being and this whole thing had started because some customer was an asshole who’d interrupted him and, really, Jack was there to read in peace, so-

“And I’ve got muffins to make, so we’ll let you get back to your reading, and we really are sorry about the distraction and, well, everything,” he said, and he told himself that he was imagining the way Jack’s face fell, and he told himself that it didn’t mean anything.

It also didn’t mean anything when Jack said, “It’s- fine. You don’t have to apologize,” quickly, like he was trying to keep Bitty there, but then- “But if you’ve got work to do I don’t want to keep you,” and Bitty smiled and nodded at that, and Jack smiled and nodded as well, and then Bitty headed straight for the back, knowing perfectly well that there weren’t any muffins for him to make.

The next time Jack Zimmerman came to the coffee shop, he ordered his pie and his coffee like he always did, but then he sat at the bar beside Shitty and read his book there, and Bitty told himself that that didn’t mean anything either.


	4. canadian thanksgiving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter may be a tiny bit unnecessary, but i'm very canadian and very self-indulgent, so
> 
> happy thanksgiving to my fellow canadians, and i promise that the plot is going to move forward a bit more obviously in the next chapter!!

Bitty liked to think that he knew his regular customers pretty well.

Sharon was working on her PhD and TA’ing classes in her spare time, and she always came in before her 8:30 class to order a vanilla latte and a mixed berry muffin. Mr. Adams was a lawyer who always got a large coffee to go, but almost always ended up drinking it in the shop, talking to Shitty. Mrs. Taylor had been retired for years, and she drank tea by the pot and wrote letters to her grandchildren and great grandchildren every Monday morning.

And then there was Jenny, who switched up her order every time, and Alex, who got decaf no matter what time it was, and Ryan, who bought a whole pie every Friday, and Hayley, who got iced drinks in the middle of the winter, and countless other people who came and went and ordered drinks and shared parts of their lives, and Bitty loved it all.

He also loved the fact that Jack Zimmerman had definitely become a regular, and that he was a relatively dependable one at that.

He came in at least once a week, though mostly twice and sometimes three times, and he ordered his large coffee and his apple pie, and he sat beside Shitty and took out his book, and they read together.

Sometimes he asked Lardo about her art, and sometimes he talked to Shitty about his classes, and sometimes he asked Bitty what he was baking, and somehow it all seemed normal.

Bitty had a feeling that Jack was the type of person who liked routines, but he never mentioned just how obvious that was.

Of course, because of that, when Jack came in one Friday, just after lunch, and ordered the turkey sandwich, Bitty blinked.

“Excuse me?” he asked and then, when Jack blushed slightly but didn’t say anything, “You want _what_ now?”

“The- uh- you’ve got a turkey sandwich, right?” Jack asked, and Bitty just kept staring, not quite believing his own ears, even as Jack went on, with, “Like, it’s on the menu but it’s totally cool if you don’t- I- just thought I’d switch it up a bit?”

“You just thought you’d switch it up a bit?” Bitty repeated because, yes, those words made perfect sense but still, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the concept of Jack _wanting_ to switch things up, even as Shitty cut in with-

“It’s a fucking great sandwich- good call, Zimmerman. I knew I raised you well,” which got a snort out of Jack and a similar one from Lardo, who was at the bar beside Shitty, drawing, while Bitty just blinked.

“A turkey sandwich,” he said, more to himself than anybody, shaking his head slightly as he went to put it in the register, along with the employee discount, and then, wary, he looked back at Jack, did his best to ignore the smile on his face, and asked, “Anything else?”

When Jack asked, “Do you have pumpkin pie?” Bitty froze again, and narrowed his eyes.

“Pumpkin pie?”

“It’s- you know, pie? With like, pumpkin filling and no crusty stuff top?”

“ _Crusty st_ \- you mean _crust_?” Bitty asked, appalled, while Lardo snorted again and Shitty’s eyes were wide in delight, but Bitty only narrowed his further. “Jack Zimmerman, do not sass me, and don’t insult me either,” he said, and then, “Of course we have pumpkin pie- it’s October.”

Jack’s grin had almost turned sheepish, but his eyes were bright and sparkling and Bitty had to try very, very hard to actually look angry, especially when Jack said, “Sorry, Bitty,” because, despite the amount of times they’d talked, he didn’t actually think Jack had ever said his name before. A part of him didn’t even think that Jack knew his name, but the fact that he did was, well, if Bitty flushed slightly than it was nobody’s business but his own.

“You’re forgiven, Mr. Zimmerman,” Bitty replied, just because he could, and then, “I’m almost afraid to ask, but will there be anything else?”

Jack was still smiling and his cheeks were a tiny bit pink, but he just shook his head and said, “No, thank you,” and Bitty was pretty sure that the manners were a Canadian thing, and he was definitely sure that they were ridiculously charming no matter what, and he ended up smiling as he took the money and counted the change and then got to work making the sandwich and plating the pie and he knew he was being ridiculous, but his smile only widened when he finally handed it all over to Jack.

“Enjoy,” he said, and Jack looked up from his book and smiled, and then-

“It really does look great,” he said, and added, “Best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve had in years,” almost as an afterthought, like it was a normal thing to mention when a turkey sandwich from a coffee shop was in front of you, and-

“Excuse me?” Bitty asked, and-

“Dude,” Shitty said, shaking his head, and-

“That’s sad,” was from Lardo, though Bitty was still stuck on the fact that it was October, so-

“Jack, hon, Thanksgiving isn’t for a month,” he said, and all Jack did was shrug.

“Not in Canada,” he said, and then he picked up the sandwich and took a bite, and let out a noise that was stupidly close to a moan and said, “Shitty was right- this isn’t bad,” and all Bitty could do was blink because, well.

Jack was Canadian, but he was in Providence, and Bitty didn’t really know anything about Canadian Thanksgiving at all, but if it was anything like Thanksgiving in America with his family, than he couldn’t help but feel bad that Jack was missing it, and the fact that Jack actually seemed to think pumpkin pie and a sandwich from a coffee shop were a good enough substitute was absolutely tragic.

Still, Bitty snapped out of that, because-

“I’ll have you know my sandwich is better than ‘ _not bad_ ,’” he said, lowering his voice to try and imitate Jack’s, and then going on with, “It’s-”

“Not bad at all?” Jack tried, and Bitty knew _this_ Jack because this was Jack when he tried to make a joke and, even though the jokes were almost always awful, it was endearing and adorable and Bitty couldn’t help but laugh, even as Lardo’s head hit the table and Shitty shook his.

Of course, Bitty tried to hide his laugh because his food was being insulted and that wouldn’t do, and he ended up sniffing and saying, “Cute,” before an idea struck him, and his eyes widened in excitement, and he pushed himself up from the counter he’d been leaning on, and pointed at Jack. “Wait,” he said, “Stop eating for a minute,” and Jack looked confused but he listened, so Bitty turned to Lardo, and- “You can watch out here for a minute?”

She looked more curious than anything, as she waved a hand and said, “It’s dead- go,” and that was all Bitty needed to hear, before he spun on his heel and headed towards the back, knowing exactly what he was doing and what he was getting.

He had sweet potatoes that he was going to use for next week’s chili special and he poked a few holes in one of them before he threw it into the microwave to bake, because he doubted that Jack would want to wait an hour, so this would have to do. He also had frozen cranberries that he used in muffins, and those were easy enough to turn into a sauce, and there really wasn’t much else he could do, but he figured that it would make the most sense to add it all to the plate that Jack already had, so he went back out to the shop and reclaimed it without a word.

Altogether, Bitty wasn’t terribly impressed with how the whole thing turned out.

He ended up covering the sweet potato in butter and brown sugar, and the cranberry sauce was a bit runny, and he added more turkey to the sandwich but, overall, it definitely looked like something from a knockoff Thanksgiving.

When Jack saw it and his entire face lit up, Bitty decided to reconsider that assessment.

All he ended up doing was laughing a tiny bit and saying, “It’s like you’ve never seen a home cooked meal before,” and Jack shrugged again.

“It’s been a while,” he said, and maybe that broke Bitty’s heart, but then Jack was eating the food and paying him a compliment every other bite and Shitty was complaining about how-

“You’ve never microwaved a sweet potato for me before, Bits,” and Lardo was pointing out that-

“He’s literally made us Thanksgiving dinner for the past four years. You’ll get over it,” and when Jack raised his eyebrows at that Lardo added, “You should come this year- get a real taste of Bitty’s cooking, and all,” and Jack practically choked on his food, and Shitty hit him on the back way too hard.

“Of course you don’t have to come,” Bitty said, shooting Lardo a glare because, really, Jack Zimmerman almost definitely had better things to do, but then-

“No, I- I mean, I have that weekend off and I’ve already booked my ticket home, but- I mean, otherwise, I would,” Jack said, and he stuttered over the words like he did when he was nervous, but he sounded sincere, and that was enough to have Bitty smiling again, even as he ducked his head to hide it.

After that, Jack kept eating and Shitty kept talking and Jack answered a seemingly endless list of questions about ‘ _what Canada is even about, man_ ,’  and it was nice. Bitty laughed at most of Jack’s answers, because they were ridiculous and so was Jack, and the deadpan way he managed most of them really was hilarious, and every once in a while Jack laughed too, and that was _very_ nice.

Bitty decided that he liked the sound of it, and he decided that he could definitely get used to it.

He also decided that there was no way in heaven or hell that Jack was leaving the shop without a full pumpkin pie, no matter what he said.

“It’s not Thanksgiving without pie,” Bitty said, and he said it over and over again, even as Jack said that it was too much, and that he’d never be able to eat it, and a million other excuses.

It was only when Jack said, “Fine, but at least let me pay for it,” that Bitty put his foot down altogether because, really.

“Jack Zimmerman, this pie is a _gift_ , and it is a gift that you are going to _accept_ , and then you are going to get out of this shop before I throw it at you, understand?”

Jack smiled the whole way out, shaking his head but not really looking put-out at all, and when the door slammed shut behind him, Bitty turned to see Shitty and Lardo staring back at him with matching expressions.

“Are we still saying that the two of you aren’t flirting?” Shitty asked, and Bitty turned to Lardo for help but Lardo just shrugged, looking curious, and, well.

“That’s _exactly_ what we’re saying, because it’s _true_ ,” Bitty said, and then added, “Y’all need to stop letting your imaginations run wild,” and then he turned his attention to the cash register and started counting the money in it, even though there was no point in doing that until closing.

He knew that Lardo and Shitty were having one of their silent conversations, and he knew that watching it would only exasperate him, because, no matter how good their intentions were, Bitty also knew that they didn’t know what they were talking about.

Still, he tuned back in when Shitty actually started talking, and he couldn’t help but nod in agreement when he said, “It’s kind of sad though, isn’t it? I mean, it’s obvious how lonely the dude is,” because, really.

Jack was an NHL star, almost definitely a millionaire, and one of the most talked about hockey players in the world. His career made headlines constantly, he was the captain of his team, and everybody in the world wanted a piece of him.

Despite that, Jack was quiet. He was nervous and tense and uncomfortable, but most of the world just thought he was cold. They called him a hockey robot because that was easier than acknowledging the fact that Jack Zimmerman, superstar, was also a human being, and Bitty almost hated the rest of the world for that.

Of course, Bitty wasn’t delusional.

He knew that he didn’t _know_ Jack, and he knew that they weren’t quite friends, but he did feel like he was getting closer to both those things.

He felt like, maybe, Jack liked coming to their coffee shop because, maybe, he felt normal there, and that wasn’t something that Bitty was willing to mess up, because it was something that Jack deserved.

He deserved to feel normal, and he deserved to have friends that made him feel that way, and that’s what Bitty and Shitty and Lardo were becoming, and that was more than enough for Bitty.

He was happy to be the one who made Jack knockoff Thanksgiving dinners, and who did his best to take care of him, and who teased him about it the whole time. He was especially happy when Jack smiled and laughed and teased him back, but that was beside the point.


	5. #findthatgloriousass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at first i was like 'damn this chapter is cheesy and these nerds are over the top cute and in love' and then i realized that that just means it fits in pretty well with the rest of this fic, so enjoy! :)

Bitty has always enjoyed watching hockey.

It was almost always on at night, and it made for good background noise, and it brought back memories of when he used to play, and the constant back and forth of it all was surprisingly relaxing. Him and Lardo shared an apartment and, on more than one occasion, she’d come home to find Bitty asleep on their couch, with a game still playing out in front of him.

Now, when the Falconers played, Bitty found himself paying more attention.

Watching Jack on the screen, gliding across the ice and handling the puck and dodging the other players, was mesmerizing.

He was far from the biggest player, but that didn’t change the fact that he was tall and broad and solid, and Bitty couldn’t help but marvel at how gracefully he moved despite that. He also played with a focused determination that was nothing short of brilliant, and it all made his talent apparent. In Bitty’s opinion, it was easy to see why he was captain.

Still, it took Bitty a while to wrap his head around the fact that the Jack Zimmerman on the ice was the same one who sat at the bar in his coffee shop every other day, but he got there eventually because, really, once you started looking for them, the similarities were endless.

When somebody spoke, Jack listened with the same focus that he played with, and when Jack told jokes, it was with the same hint of hesitation that took over him when his teammates celebrated his goals, and when somebody asked him what he was reading, Jack answered with a glint of excitement in his eyes that was always there during face-offs.

Of course, the announcers almost never failed to joke about Jack being a robot, and it made Bitty want to scream at them because, really, if they just opened their eyes, they’d be able to understand Jack so much more.

The idea that maybe Bitty got to know a side of Jack that he kept hidden from the rest of the world had crossed his mind, but he banished that thought almost as soon as it hit him, and ignored the excitement that it had brought with it.

When Jack came in during the days after games, Bitty still made a point of not saying much, other than a ‘good game,’ or a ‘nice goal, hon,’ and he was pretty sure that Jack appreciated it, and he wasn’t going to press either way because he knew that Jack loved hockey and he knew that he could probably talk about it all day, but he also knew how important it was to have a break every once in a while, and he was determined to be Jack’s break.

Still, when Jack got in a fight during a game and wasn’t heard from for nearly a week, Bitty couldn’t help but worry.

The morning after the fight, he heard Shitty barge through the front doors and ask, “Did you fucking see that last night, bro?” and he heard Lardo say, “Yeah man, it was wild,” and Bitty had stayed in the back, and tried to focus on breathing normally.

Even when he’d played hockey, he’d hated the violence that accompanied the sport. He shied away from fights, and he avoided checking like the plague, and, really, anything that could result in somebody getting hurt, made him cringe. Because of that, watching Jack take part in a fight had been harder than he would have expected, even if the fight hadn’t been particularly rough.

It happened during the third period of the game, when the other team got tired of losing and channelled their anger into violence, and that really wasn’t anything new for hockey. When Jack had scored yet another goal, somebody got mad and threw a punch, and that had been that. A few of the bigger guys on his team had stepped in before it could get too messy, but Bitty still hated every minute of it.

A part of him knew his discomfort was almost solely based on bad memories from high school, but an even larger part of him was focused on ignoring that, so he pushed all of those thoughts aside and focused on baking an extra maple crusted apple pie, because he knew it was Jack’s favourite.

When Jack didn’t end up coming in that day, Bitty stored the pie in the fridge and told himself that it wasn’t a big deal.

When Jack didn’t come in the next day, Bitty sold the pie and told himself that he wasn’t disappointed.

When Jack didn’t come in the day after that, Shitty suggested that Bitty tweet #whereszimmerman or #zimmerman911 or #findthatgloriousass, and Lardo called Shitty an idiot.

When Jack didn’t come in the day after that, Bitty spent the entire day trying to convince himself that Jack hadn’t gotten a concussion and died, or severed an artery in his brain and died, or got amnesia and died, and when Lardo pointed out that none of those injuries seemed likely or, really, possible, he only felt a tiny bit better.

After that it was the weekend, which meant that Bitty and Lardo weren’t at the shop at all, but Bitty was pretty sure that Shitty would still be there and he was pretty sure that if Jack showed up, he’d get a text, but that didn’t happen.

Instead, nobody heard from Jack until Monday rolled around and he walked through the front doors like nothing had happened at all, and Bitty was still in the back baking, so he wouldn’t have known that Jack was back at all, except-

“Dude, what the actual fuck?” Shitty all but yelled, his voice easily carrying into the back and catching Bitty’s attention and, well.

Bitty was pretty sure there was only one person Shitty could be talking to, so he grabbed a plate of muffins that needed to go in the display case and pretended that he was just doing his job and he headed out front, and when he got there and actually saw what was going on, his jaw dropped and he froze in place.

The first thing he noticed was that Jack was definitely there, and the second thing he noticed was that Shitty was definitely not planning on letting him leave any time soon. It was apparent by the way that he’d wrapped his entire body around Jack’s in the most ridiculous hug that Bitty had ever seen, and the only thing that made it funnier was the fact that Jack was patting Shitty on the back, looking lost and confused and alarmed.

Lardo was watching the whole thing with her lips pursed in a way that told Bitty she was trying not to smile, and Bitty found that his expression was starting to match hers because, really.

Jack could come and go as he pleased and yes, Bitty had been worried about him after the fight, but being worried didn’t give Bitty a right to know about his whereabouts and, with that in mind, he pushed down any irritation or hurt that he might have been feeling, and he told himself to let it go.

It was easier said than done, but it was also something he had a lot of practice with.

Of course, when Jack was finally released from Shitty’s embrace and Bitty actually got a good look at him, his resolve fell away, because-

“Jack, your _face_ ,” he said, though it was more of a gasp, and then he was walking forward and the muffins were long forgotten, and he was standing in front of Jack at the counter and just staring up at him because, really.

The bruise around his eye was starting to fade, but it was still an angry blue that looked more painful than Bitty wanted to know, and his split lip was scabbing over but it was still noticeably swollen, and worst of all was the row of stitches that ran in a neat line underneath his chin.

Bitty took it all in, and used every ounce of self-control he possessed to stop himself from reaching out a hand and cradling Jack’s face, because that was not a thing that friends did.

Instead, he met Jack’s eye and said, “You have _stitches_ ,” and Jack looked down.

“It- uh,” he started, and Bitty tried not to think about how much he’d missed Jack’s voice, “It looks worse than it is?”

“It-” Bitty started to repeat it, but he cut himself off with a shake of his head, and sighed. “You have _stitches_ , Jack,” he said, and then, “Your face is a mess.”

Jack at least had the decency to look sheepish at that, but he still went to protest with, “It’s-” and Bitty was more than grateful when Shitty cut in with-

“Completely fucked up, dude,” and Lardo nodded as well, adding-

“It’d be kind of gross if you weren’t already so hot,” and Jack blushed at that, and Bitty did as well, when he realized that he was nodding along to Lardo’s comment.

All Jack did was shrug and say, “It’s just hockey, you know?” and Shitty and Lardo nodded along to that, while Bitty tutted, but didn’t actually say anything either.

Instead, he was interrupted by an alarm going off in the back, and then he was excusing himself and saying, “Y’all catch up now- don’t worry about me,” and maybe that was a bit passive aggressive, but he had to take his brownies out of the oven, and then he had to get his last two pies in, and then he had to cut the brownies and ice them and plate them, and then he had to bring them out to the front and, well.

He was glad that Jack was back.

He really, really was.

He knew that Jack didn’t owe him anything, and he knew that he didn’t deserve to know why Jack had gone missing for a week, and he knew that he worried too much and that it annoyed people and that Jack was a grown man who could take care of himself, and he knew that he was being ridiculous.

He knew that, but he was still a tiny bit hurt and he desperately didn’t want that to show, so he put on the bravest face he could manage and he grabbed the plate of brownies, and when his friends fell silent the moment he stepped out front, he just smiled even wider and ignored the dread that was burning up the pit of his stomach.

Lardo and Shitty smiled back, while Jack just looked at him with a furrowed brow and an otherwise unreadable expression, so Bitty went straight to the display case and when he turned back around, Shitty was saying something about going to the washroom and Lardo was saying something about grabbing her lunch, and Bitty blinked and then he was alone with Jack, who still wasn’t smiling.

If anything, Jack almost looked guilty, but Bitty was pretty sure he was just projecting.

Because of that, when Jack ended up being the first to speak, and said, “I’m- uh- I’m sorry I didn’t come by last week,” almost too quickly for Bitty to actually understand, all he did was blink again.

After a moment Jack looked away, and Bitty realized that it was his turn to say something but he was mostly just confused, because- “Hon, you don’t have to apologize to me for anything,” he said, and the words sounded like a lie even as he said them, but he kept going with, “Lord knows you’re busy, and I’m sure you’ve got a million better things to do than come here in your spare time, and-”

“I don’t,” Jack interrupted, and then he cleared his throat and looked down at the empty plate in front of him, and said, “I mean, I like coming here, and I- shouldn’t have disappeared last week, and Lardo said you were worried and Shitty said you were stress baking, so- I’m sorry. For that, I mean.”

Once again, all Bitty did was blink.

He wasn’t used to apologies and he never really knew what to do with them and a part of him always felt like he never quite deserved them, and Shitty had called him out on it more than once. Shitty had also told him, time and time again, that all you had to do was, ‘acknowledge the fuck out of it, and decide if you accept it or not, and then move the fuck on,’ but Shitty wasn’t there, so Bitty could do what he wanted, and all he ended up doing was rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t stress baking, I was baking. It’s kind of my job, you know,” he said, aiming for a joke and knowing he missed when all Jack did was purse his lips and raise his eyebrows and, after a moment, Bitty cracked. “Of course I was worried, Jack. You got in a fight,” he said, and Jack was back to looking guilty and that wasn’t fair, so- “But you don’t have to apologize for that, hon. Being worried is my problem, not yours.”

At that, Jack looked even less impressed than before. “I wasn’t apologizing for worrying you,” he pointed out, “I was apologizing for disappearing,” and Bitty had about a million arguments that he wanted to make in regards to that, but then Jack asked, “Can I give you my phone number?” and Bitty lost track of his train of thought because, really.

“Can you- excuse me?” Bitty ended up asking, and Jack’s cheeks were definitely red and his jaw was set but he looked more embarrassed than angry, and he just shrugged.

“If- you had my number, you could text me if you’re worried, or whatever,” he said, and it sounded like he was trying to be casual about it but he also sounded impossibly nervous and that in itself was impossibly sweet, and Jack only got half way through saying, “It’s cool if you don’t want to,” before Bitty was pulling out his phone and handing it over.

It got a smile out of Jack, and Bitty smiled back, and his smile only grew as he watched Jack put his contact information in because, really.

The bruising on his face looked awful and painful, but it also made Jack look handsome in a rugged sort of way that he usually missed, and he bit his lip when he focused, and his cheeks were still a tiny bit pink, and when he handed back the phone, he didn’t quite make eye contact.

It was adorable, and Bitty had long since stopped trying to understand how somebody the size of Jack Zimmerman could be adorable, so when he got his phone back he focused his attention on finding Jack’s number and typing out a message reading, ‘ _Now you have my number too!’_ and when Jack’s phone buzzed a moment later, he smiled but it looked sheepish.

“I-” he started, but cut himself off and pursed his lips and looked more than a little bit embarrassed when he said, “For your contact information, I don’t actually know your real name?” at which point Bitty couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you make a habit of giving your number out to strangers, Mr. Zimmerman?” he asked, and Jack rolled his eyes and sighed and it didn’t quite hit exasperated, but Bitty took pity on him anyways. “It’s Eric Bittle,” he said, and then, because he was already being cheesy and he'd already started teasing Jack, he stuck out a hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” and he was only a tiny bit surprised when Jack returned the handshake.

And _of course_ , his hand was warm and soft and huge, and _of course_ , Bitty had to keep himself from swooning, and _of course_ , Jack was blushing and looking nervous, because Bitty wasn’t even being subtle with his flirting and, all at once, he was embarrassed for himself.

He felt gross and creepy because Jack was just being nice and Bitty was practically throwing himself at him, and he was in the process of pulling his hand back when Jack squeezed it just a tiny bit tighter, and-

And then Jack said, “Please, Eric, the pleasure is all mine,” and Bitty had no idea what to do with that, but his face turned bright red and he found himself beaming, and his smile didn’t even fall away when Shitty and Lardo came back and teased him for it relentlessly.


	6. texting etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the strategy here is post the chapter now and edit it later, so please just ignore any terrible mistakes?

So Bitty texted Jack, because it seemed like the thing to do.

He sent a _‘Good luck tonight :)’_ a few hours before a game, and Jack replied almost instantly with a _‘Thanks!’_ and then asked, _‘Were you planning on watching?’_ and then almost right away, _‘It’s cool if you aren’t.. I was just wondering,’_ and Bitty couldn’t help but smile down at his phone and imagine Jack blushing while he waited for a reply.

 _‘Of course I am!’_ he sent quickly, and then he typed out, _‘Score a goal for me?’_ but he erased it before he could send it because that was definitely bordering on flirting, and Bitty wasn’t flirting with Jack. Instead he ended up sending, _‘And I’m making a fresh apple pie tomorrow, so you should come by if you’re back in town!’_

And then Jack’s reply came a few moments later saying that he’d be there, and then Bitty texted him back, and then they just kept going and, suddenly, texting each other was just something that they did.

Bitty sent him live updates of Lardo and Shitty’s flirting, Jack told him stories about his team, Bitty let him know when he was making Jack’s favourite pie, and Jack let him know if he was going out of town or if he’d be away for a while.

When they saw each other in person they never really mentioned it, but it also wasn’t awkward. They picked up conversations where they’d left off, and they teased each other, and Bitty knew that he was pretty much constantly toeing the line between being friendly and flirting and sometimes he felt like Jack was crossing the line entirely, but he knew that it was just in his imagination, and he was always sure to remind himself of it.

Him and Jack Zimmerman were friends, and he was happy with that, and that realization hit him like a truck one day while he was at The Coffee Haus with Shitty and Lardo.

It was mid-afternoon so the place was empty, and Bitty and Lardo were really just biding their time until the evening workers came to take over. Shitty was preparing for an exam, Lardo was shopping for paints online, and Bitty was trying to decide which picture of his latest pie experiment to post on Instagram, when his phone buzzed with a text from Jack.

All it read was, _‘Just so you know, I’ve got a few out of town games in a row, so I probably won’t be around for a while,’_ and Bitty replied instantly, switching to emoji’s and sending three sad faces.

After that he sent the picture he’d been thinking of instagramming, and added, _‘Your loss, I guess,’_ even though he was already missing Jack a tiny bit, and that was ridiculous.

Of course, before he could actually shake himself out of it, Jack’s reply came. He sent the same sad face that Bitty had, followed by a message that read, _‘After that it’s a bunch of home games in a row, so I’ll be back,’_ and then another one that said, _‘Hey, would you want to come to one of them?’_ and when Bitty read that he almost fainted, and he definitely gasped.

Lardo raised an eyebrow and Shitty asked, “What’s up, little dude?”  but Bitty waved them off and was already typing out his reply.

_‘Are you offering me tickets, Mr. Zimmerman?’_

_‘Is there an eye rolling emoji?’_

_‘Is that a yes or a no to you offering me tickets?’_

_‘I could get some for Shitty and Lardo too?’_

_‘omg Jack that would be fantastic!!!!!’_

_‘How many should I get you guys?’_

Bitty thought about that for a moment because, really. Ransom and Holster would freak out if they found out he hadn’t gotten them tickets when he had the chance, and Dex and Nursey wouldn’t be much better. Really, there was a solid chance that the whole team would turn on him, but Bitty still decided against it and eventually just sent, _‘3 would be perfect!’_

Jack replied, _‘Great, I’ll let you know,’_ and Bitty sent back, _‘Thanks! :) And good luck tonight!’_ and then the conversation was over and he looked up to see Shitty and Lardo staring at him with raised eyebrows.

Shitty was the first to speak, turning to Lardo as he said, “Ten bucks says that our boy Jack just sent Bits a dick pic,” at which point Bitty’s face turned red and his jaw dropped, while Lardo just shook her head.

“Nah man, Jack’s too classy for that,” she said, and Bitty didn’t know whether to thank her or to scold her, but then she added, “Tastefully shirtless pic though, I could see that,” and the decision was made for him.

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring them down, though neither of them looked particularly intimidated.

Shitty just nudged Lardo and said, “This motherfucker doth protest too much, eh?” and Lardo wiggled her eyebrows, and Bitty rolled his eyes.

“I’ll have you know that Jack just offered us all tickets to one of his games, but if you two aren’t interested I can text him back right now,” he said, and he meant to prove a point, but then Shitty’s face practically lit up and Lardo’s eyes widened in surprise, and Bitty felt like he’d given something away. “I- he said he’ll text me the details?” he tried after a moment of silence, and Shitty’s eyebrows just rose up, while Lardo was the one to offer an explanation.

“Bits, babe, bro, we were joking about you texting Jack,” she said, and Bitty frowned while Lardo continued with, “Have you been texting him this whole time?”

Bitty felt like he was missing something, so he aimed for nonchalance when he shrugged and said, “Would there be a problem with that?”

Lardo and Shitty had one of their silent conversations then, but it ended abruptly when Shitty turned back to Bitty and asked, “So what you’re saying, is that Jack Zimmerman comes to your coffee shop all the time, and then he gave you his number, and now you and him text constantly?”

“We don’t text constantly,” Bitty said, and decided not to mention the good morning texts that he’d gotten used to receiving, “And again, would there be a problem with that?”

Shitty blinked, and Lardo took over.

“You’ve been texting him, he’s offered you tickets to one of his games, you flirt with him constantly, he constantly flirts back, and you still don’t think you have a chance with him?”

If Bitty’s mama hadn’t taught him better manners, his jaw probably would have dropped at that. As it was, he just felt his face turn bright red and his stomach roll over, and his entire body stiffened just a tiny bit as he struggled to keep his voice even and said, “He offered us all tickets to his game,” and then swallowed down the lump in his throat and added, “So I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

To anybody else in the world it probably would have been believable, but Shitty and Lardo knew Bitty better than anybody else in the world, and Bitty knew that they saw through him in a heartbeat.

Lardo’s expression softened into something that wasn’t quite sad but was definitely concerned, and Shitty’s eyebrows pulled together and his lips pursed and he was definitely frowning, and Bitty deflated.

When Lardo asked, “Is it that hard to believe that he’d like you?” Bitty wanted to scream because, really.

With the way Jack was acting, it wasn’t hard to believe it at all. He was friendly and attentive and he sent good morning texts and he did everything that Bitty imagined people did when they were trying to flirt, but that was beside the point.

The point was, was that Bitty’s first crush had started and ended in second grade, when Michael Smith had gone from being his friend to his bully in less than a month, and his second crush had ended when Harrison Stewart started dating Melissa Reynolds, and his third crush ended when Ryan Johnson stood aside and didn’t do anything while his friends shoved Bitty in a locker, and it hadn’t gotten much better from there.

He’d made friends at the high school he transferred to and him and Steven Wright had even fooled around in grade twelve, but neither of them had been ready to be out and then they’d both graduated and moved away, and that was that.

There’d been fooling around at college too, mostly at parties with boys that he didn’t see again, and his hockey team had never been anything but supportive, but relationships had been few and far between.

Honestly, as far as love lives went, Bitty didn’t think his was particularly tragic, but he also didn’t like to think about it much because, scattered around the edges, there were memories of the completely unattainable boys he’d liked, and thinking about it never made him feel good.

Of course, he’d also known Shitty and Lardo for years, and they knew all of that, and the fact that they were pushing him despite it had to mean something so eventually Bitty just sighed and said, “He’s my friend, Lardo. That’s why he likes me, and it’s fine.”

Lardo just kept staring at him and Bitty stared back, and it was Shitty who broke the silence when he said, “Hypothetically speaking, then, what would it take for you to believe that he’s interested?” and Bitty blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“Hypothetically speaking, if we knew for a fact that Zimmerman was interested in fucking men, what would it take for you to believe that he’s interested in fucking you?”

Bitty sighed and muttered, “A miracle?” and he didn’t really mean for his friends to hear it because he knew how they’d react; Lardo frowned and crossed her arms, and Shitty just looked angry.

“So what are we talking about, then?” Shitty asked, “What calibre of miraculous happenings do we need here?” and Bitty sighed again, and looked away.

“Shitty-”

“Like, does he need to ask you on a date and turn a pumpkin into a carriage?” Shitty asked, and he was using his lawyer voice, like he always did when he was getting ready for a rant, and Bitty didn’t want to hear it but he also didn’t know how to stop it. He looked to Lardo for help, but she just kept on glaring, and Shitty just kept on listing hypotheticals, asking,  “Or does he need to get down on one knee and beg for your hand in marriage? Or will you not believe it until the two of you are walking down a fucking aisle at the most gloriously touching ceremony this world has ever seen? Or-”

Lardo elbowed him and Shitty cut the rant off, but Bitty just kept looking at the counter in front of him because, really, he wasn’t sure what else to do.

He knew Shitty had a point and he knew Shitty was only angry because he cared, but still. Bitty’s face was bright red and he felt tired and defeated and he really, really just wanted the conversation to be over.

When he finally did look up, he saw Lardo glaring at Shitty and Shitty staring back, looking sheepish but definitely not ashamed, and, when Lardo raised an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly towards Bitty, Shitty let out a sigh and turned to face him.

“I’m sorry, Bits, that was out of line,” he said, and he sounded sincere and Bitty knew that he was so he was ready to accept the apology and move on, when Shitty kept going with, “But you are the hottest, sexiest little baker around and I do not say that lightly, and you are a motherfucking catch, and any man in this entire world would be lucky to have you, including Jack Zimmerman and his glorious ass, okay?”

Bitty rolled his eyes, more than used to Shitty pouring on compliments, but he also said, “You’re too sweet,” and smiled at Shitty and then added, “Both of you,” when he looked to Lardo, and she smiled back, and that was that.

When Jack showed up at the coffee shop a week later with three ice level tickets in town, nobody said a word about their conversation.

Shitty tackled him into the strangest hug Bitty had ever seen, and Lardo said, “Glad you’re back, bro,” and Bitty couldn’t help the huge smile that took up residence on his face because, really, he’d missed Jack more than he wanted to think about, but he was back now and they were going to one of his games, and things were good.


	7. hockey etc.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bitty, lardo, and shitty go to a hockey game, and then they go out with jack and the falcs afterwards, and things get interesting from there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i know it's been a year+ since i've updated and a lot of you have probably given up on this fic, but if any of you are still out there, i hope you enjoy?

Back when Jack had first started coming to The Coffee Haus, he’d looked out of place in the moderately sized shop. He would sit with his shoulders hunched and his arms crossed, and he always seemed conscious of the space he was taking up. The awkwardness had fallen away somewhere along the line and Bitty was incredibly grateful for it, but he’d never realized just how much presence Jack Zimmermann could command, until he got to see him play hockey in person.

The ‘A’ on his jersey made all the sense in the world because, from the moment Jack stepped onto the ice for warm-up to when the Falcs won the game and he smiled and waved at Bitty, he looked infallible. Jack looked untouchable, and it did things to Bitty’s heart that he didn't want to think about, so he didn’t.

He put those feelings in a box and he pushed them aside, and he focused on cheering alongside Shitty and Lardo.

The three of them screamed their hearts out when Jack scored his first goal and then when he scored his second one, and they screamed when he got an assist too. Being by the ice and getting caught up in the game reminded Bitty of his Samwell days, and he was pretty sure that Shitty and Lardo felt it too. 

It was nice and fun and just a little bit bittersweet but, by the time the game ended, they were all too pumped to care.

The three of them were standing in the lobby, trying to decide what to do next, when Bitty’s phone vibrated in his hand. The screen told him that he had a text from Jack and, when he unlocked the phone and read the message, he was pretty sure his heart stopped.

It was only when Shitty cleared his throat that Bitty realized he’d missed something in their conversation, and when he saw a raised eyebrow from Lardo, his cheeks flushed.

Still, the text concerned them too, so Bitty just cleared his throat before he said, “It’s Jack- he’s going to grab drinks with some of his teammates and he- wanted to know if we wanted to join them?” and Lardo and Shitty were both beaming before Bitty even finished his sentence. 

Shitty said, “Fuck yeah, we do,” and Lardo said, “I’m so down,” and Bitty couldn’t hold back a smile of his own.

“I’ll let him know,” he said, before he texted Jack a quick, ‘ _ we’d love to! where should we meet you?’ _ and swallowed down a lump in his throat. As long as he kept telling himself that he wasn’t nervous, he didn’t have to analyze when he was all but shaking in his boots.

Jack texted him back a moment later, directing them towards gate one, and promising to get through press as quickly as possible, and those texts calmed Bitty more than he wanted to admit.

If Lardo and Shitty noticed his nerves, they didn’t say anything. The three of them made their way over to the gate slowly, weaving their way through the crowds of people trying to get home or go out after the game, and trying to stay out of the way as they did so.

When they got to the gate in question, Bitty texted Jack to let him know, before he tuned back into Lardo and Shitty’s conversation, just in time to hear Shitty contemplate the potential of writing a thesis on toxic masculinity in hockey. Bitty had heard Shitty contemplate more than a few thesis ideas that had never come to be, so he didn’t feel bad about only partly listening.

Instead, most of his attention went to scanning the crowd and trying to look like he wasn’t, until his eyes finally landed on Jack and he felt himself light up in a way that he couldn’t hide.

Any embarrassment that he normally would have felt was diminished by the fact that Jack was beaming from ear to ear right back at him and, when Lardo and Shitty saw who Bitty was smiling at, they grinned as well.

Shitty, being himself and the closest to Jack, also threw himself at Jack and said, “You beautiful, hockey playing man,” while they hugged.

When they pulled apart Jack was laughing and Lardo held out a fist for him to bump. “You really did play great,” she said, and Jack blushed while he thanked her.

The blush was a lot, and so was Jack’s still damp hair and the brightness in his eyes and his perfectly tailored dress shirt, and all of a sudden Bitty wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands, so he ended up clutching his phone with both of them while he said, “Really, you looked fantastic.”

It didn’t feel like enough, but Jack’s smile softened a tiny bit when he said, “Thanks Bitty,” and Bitty was pretty sure that Jack understood. Of course, Jack also said, “You guys ready to go?” and they were, so they followed Jack back through the arena while he explained their plans for the night.

Apparently Thirdy had to bail because his daughter wasn’t feeling well and Guy had to bail because he was ‘too old for this crap’, but Marty, Tater, and Snowy were meeting them at the bar, and if Tater and Snowy were there, than Poots probably would be as well. Bitty listened and nodded along at the appropriate moments, but he let Lardo and Shitty do most of the talking as they climbed into Jack’s truck.

It was only when Jack started the truck and something that was definitely country music started playing through the speakers, that Bitty spoke up because, really.

“Jack Zimmermann, are you trying to make me feel like I never left Georgia?” Bitty asked, only a tiny bit serious, and Jack didn’t look guilty at all.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, and Bitty huffed dramatically.

“There’s always a problem when country music is playing, hon,” Bitty said, and Jack looked like he had a response to that ready to go, when Lardo chimed in from the back seat.

“Unless it’s you standing on a table singing Jolene at a party in third year, right Bits?” she asked, and Jack’s smile grew while Shitty howled with laughter.

“I thought we were friends, Larissa,” Bitty said over the laughter, before he added, “And it’s not my fault if Dolly Parton is an icon and I was the only one at that party willing to give her music the respect that it deserves.”

“Even if it’s country music?” Jack asked, with a sidelong glance and a smirk that did nothing to alleviate Bitty’s blush.

Bitty sighed before he said, “Even if it’s country music,” and then he added, “And shouldn't you be focusing on the road, Mr. Zimmermann?” just so he could feel like he got a victory out of the conversation.

For his part, Jack was smiling and the laugh lines around his eyes were prominent, but he lifted his hands briefly in surrender, keeping his eyes on the road the entire time.

The bar they went to ended up being more like a hole in a wall, but the inside was more crowded than the outside had seemed.

When they got there, the group of Falconers they were meeting had already piled into a semi-circular booth in the back, and a few of them- Marty and Tater, maybe?- waved when they saw Jack.

Jack lead the way to the booth and, when they got there, he started introduction with, “Guys, these are my friends I was talking about- Shitty, Lardo, and Bitty,” and then he went on with, “And these are my teammates- Snowy, Tater, Poots, and Marty,” pointing to the Falcs as he said their names, and then the introductions were over and it was quiet for a moment.

Shitty was the first to break the silence, saying, “Sup, bro’s?” as he slid into the booth.

Lardo followed close behind saying, “Hey,” as she went, and Bitty glanced at Jack before he slid in beside Lardo.

Jack sat at the end of the row beside Bitty, and it was impossible for Bitty not to notice how close together they were. He distracted himself by saying, “It’s so nice to meet y’all,” and then he added, “It’s nice to put faces to the names that Jack’s always tossing around,” and Marty smiled.

“We could say the same about you, kid,” he said, sending Jack a look that Bitty didn’t quite understand.

Bitty didn’t know what to do with any of that, so he was grateful when Tater said, “Bitty, you are the one with pies, yes?”

Bitty smiled and said, “Lardo and I own the coffee shop,” before he narrowed his eyes slightly and turned to Jack. “Have you been talking about my pies but not sending us customers?” he asked, joking, and Tater boomed with laughter from across the table. 

“He is sharing pie from Thanksgiving but wanting to keep you all to himself,” Tater said, and Bitty tried to ignore the effect that those words had on his heart.

He was pretty sure he heard Snowy say,  _ ‘Jesus Christ Tater,’ _ but Bitty just laughed politely until the moment passed, and then he asked, “So, have y’all ordered drinks yet?”

The answer turned out to be yes, and a few pitches of beer arrived moments later.

Jack poured Bitty a cup that he drank gratefully, and the conversation got easier from there. Bitty still felt like he was missing something, but the beer made him care less and less, and it also made Jack’s leg pressed into his under the table just a bit more tolerable. It still felt like enough to set Bitty on fire, but it was in a way that made him happy to burn.

Eventually, Bitty was warm and fuzzy to the point where it took him a few moments to realize that Jack’s arm was draped across the booth behind Bitty, but then all of a sudden Bitty was ready to explode, because that wasn’t fair.

It made him want to lean into Jack’s side and stay there, and it made him want to kiss Jack’s jaw where it was level with his own eyes, and it made him want a million other things that he couldn’t have and none of that was fair so, after a moment of stunned longing, Bitty excused himself.

“I’m just gonna go grab a glass of water from the bar- I don’t want to bother the waitress with it- excuse me, Jack, hon,” he said, a bit too flustered to sound casual, but he could blame that on the beer. Sure, it would wound his pride, but less so than the truth would.

There were a few tables that Bitty had to weave himself through before he actually got to the bar and there was a small dance floor off to the side that he was just noticing, but he ignored most of that and focused on catching his breath. The bartenders were busy so he didn’t bother trying to get their attention- he just leaned between two empty stools and told himself to calm down and breathe, and he was just about there when a throat cleared beside him.

“Hey, not to be weird, but do I know you from somewhere?” a voice asked, and Bitty turned his head, only to see a man that he almost definitely didn’t know.

“Sorry, hon, but I don’t think so,” Bitty said, and the man’s cheeks flushed and his expression fell just a tiny bit, before he shook that off with a smile and a tiny laugh that didn’t made any sense to Bitty, until-

“Right. And I’m guessing I should have listened to my friends when they told me that that line would never work?” he asked, just nervous enough to be endearing, and this time Bitty laughed.

It was an awkward, surprised noise that worked its way up his throat before he knew it was coming, and then he threw a hand over his mouth to block it, not wanting to seem rude. “They might be onto something,” he agreed, and there were a million other things running through his head and most of them centered around Jack Zimmermann, but flirting was easy and the guy in front of Bitty wasn’t complicated, so he didn’t bother stopping himself from saying, “But we are talking now, aren’t we?”

The man’s smile grew wider than Bitty had seen yet, and it was a nice smile. A bit crooked and not as enticing as  _ other  _ smiles that Bitty had seen that night, but it was nice. The man also held out a hand and said, “We are. And I’m Ryan- it’s nice to meet you,” and Bitty shook the offered hand.

He also turned so that his free elbow was leaning against the bar and he was facing Ryan entirely, and he was just about to introduce himself, when-

“Bitty, the waitress came by right after you left and it looked like things were taking a while here so I asked her to get you your water,” Jack said, and it felt like he’d come out of nowhere, which probably meant that Bitty had drank more than he realized, and for a moment too long, Bitty just froze entirely.

He looked at Jack and Jack looked at him and Ryan probably looked on wondering what was going on, and Bitty felt bad about it but he ignored Ryan entirely, because he was almost positive that he knew what Jack was doing, and it wasn’t fair.

He was half a second away from saying the most dismissive thing he could manage and going home with Ryan out of spite, when Ryan jumped in and said, “I’m gonna head back to my table- but it was nice meeting you,” and then he was gone and Bitty was ready to explode for what felt like the millionth time that night.

He was ready to explode but, in the end, he just said, “Thanks, Jack,” in the most polite voice he could manage, and he went to move around Jack and then back to the table or to the bathroom or maybe he’d just keep walking all the way home, when-

“Bitty, can we talk?” Jack asked, and he sounded more nervous than Bitty had ever heard him, and it made Bitty freeze once again.

He froze where he was, half way through brushing past Jack and now acutely aware of just how close together it left them standing, and then he let out a breath that seemed to hold all of his bravado. “About what?” he asked, sounding smaller than he ever wanted to sound, and when he finally looked up he saw that Jack was glancing around the bar.

Bitty was about to get angry about that, when Jack asked, “Can we go outside?” and Bitty frowned, but he was too confused to protest.

He felt completely and entirely lost, so nodding and then following Jack outside ended up being one of the easiest things he’d done all night.

It was cool out, and the fresh air made it easier for Bitty to breathe. It helped clear his head, and it helped him think.

Of course, thinking made him begin to wonder what, exactly, was going on, and he was about to stop walking and ask Jack just that, when Jack stopped first. 

He stopped and he turned around to face Bitty, and something in his expression reminded Bitty of how he’d looked on the ice earlier that night, and it was doing things to Bitty’s heart that he was used to and would never be used to all at once, and then-

“Can I kiss you?” Jack asked, and Bitty was pretty sure that his heart stopped altogether.

All he could do was blink and wait to wake up, but when that didn’t happen he realized that he needed to say something. “Can you-” was all that came out before he went back to blinking and trying to breathe, and Jack was looking more and more nervous by the second, but he didn’t let that stop him from talking a moment later.

“I- I like you,” Jack said, and all Bitty could do was stare on in wonder as he kept going with, “And I’m sorry I was a dick in there and I’m sorry my friends have been weird and I’m sorry for- this. But Bits, I- I just really like you, and I just. Really want to kiss you. If that’s okay.”

Bitty wanted to say that it was okay, and he wanted to tell Jack that he liked him too, and then he wanted to tell the entire world, but every time he opened his mouth, the words didn’t come. He still felt like he was dreaming, and he still felt frozen, and he felt like if he made one wrong move, the entire world would fall apart.

Of course, he also felt more than willing to risk the entire world, so, after a few more moments of staring, Bitty closed the distance between him and Jack. 

His hands found Jack’s face and Jack’s hands found Bitty’s hips, and their mouths met half way and, in that moment, a lot of things started to make sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realize that this was a bit choppy and rushed and the chapter might not fit perfectly into the rest of the story, but i think that makes sense considering the fact that it's been over a year since i've updated?
> 
> also i realize that it wasn't very clear so in case you were wondering, the falconers 110% know that jack isn't straight, and they also all know that jack has a crush on bitty because jack is about as subtle as tater is, which is to say that jack isn't subtle at all
> 
> also i'm gonna try my bet to update this thing a bit quicker this time around, but let me know what you thought of this chapter?
> 
> (though there's a chance that the next chapter will be the epilogue- but i'm not sure yet because there are things that i planned on doing with this story that i could still do, but it also might make more sense to cut my losses and give everybody a happy ending here? i don't know we'll see that's the magic of writing, friends)

**Author's Note:**

> if you've read this far let me know what you think?


End file.
